


Don't Be an Idiot

by psychthriller



Series: Apex One-Shots [1]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, BDSM, Bondage, Dirty Talk, Dominant Masochism, F/M, Femdom, Kinktober 2019, Korean Language, Masturbation, Mild Blood, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-20 23:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21064772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychthriller/pseuds/psychthriller
Summary: His lips meet her jaw, and she can feel his hot breath puffing against her neck when he growls, "Like this? Is this what you wanted, Renee?" in her ear.She whimpers, nodding breathlessly."Ah-ah," he purrs against her throat, tongue slipping out to taste the single drop of sweat rolling down her delicate neck, causing her to gasp. "You know the rules. Say it. Be a good girl and let me hear it."---------Uhhh idk how this happened but it all came out of me in one sitting at like 3am so uhhh, enjoy this poorly-edited porn with feelings. Basically Crypto is a thieving little shit so Wraith decides to put him in his rightful place: beneath her.





	Don't Be an Idiot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [romanticallyinept](https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticallyinept/gifts).

> This was written and edited on my phone at like 3AM and it's all @romanticallyinept's fault and it's my first fic and I dunno what I'm doing okay so BE NICE.
> 
> Legends are referred to by both their Apex Games stage name and their real first or last name. Be sure to check out the notes at the end of the fic, and thanks for reading! This is my first fic in like a decade and was written and edited entirely on my shitty phone, so be nice lol. Certain themes are blatantly ripped-off of @romanticallyinept's fic, "don't care about winning," and @PlumpPeachPrincess's "Brat," so go read those as they are highly superior to the garbage I word-vomited into this story at 3am, immediately after reading theirs. Definitely go read their stories after this one!
> 
> Many thanks to my beta reader and long-suffering fiancé, M. And to y'all, the readers, for taking the time to read this utter filth. 💜

Renee slammed her fist into the wall of her bedroom on the dropship. That ridiculous new rookie had finally gotten on her last nerve. She'd been patient. Friendly, even. Forgiving. But he was such an entitled, insufferable little shit. A sarcastic know-it-all, immune to even Elliot's contagious laughter and charming personality. She herself had a reputation for a certain level of...personal gloominess, but this little brat made her look downright charismatic by comparison. The biting sarcasm and perpetual bad mood were unbearably obnoxious. He was always staring at her like she didn't belong, like he knew something she didn't, and muttering things under his breath in a language she couldn't understand. But this time it wasn't just annoyance. This time he had gone too far. Rookie or not, she was going to teach him a lesson.

It had started in the ring earlier that day. Park -- she refused to call him by that ridiculous moniker -- had been paired up with Mirage and herself, and was leaning casually against a boulder outside the city, completely absorbed in his drone's AR interface as he scouted the outskirts of the city before them. She had told him that he should move to better cover, as he was poorly concealed and couldn't escape damage or detection the way she and Mirage could. Park had refused to acknowledge her verbally, merely rolling his eyes in response before patching into the drone.

Suddenly, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Her mind tingled with the uncomfortable feeling of being watched, as her own voice echoed in her ears, _**It's a sniper. Move!**_

Before she could even think her body reacted, and she found herself at the bottom of the snowy bank they had been perched on the moment before, thankfully concealed by a much bigger boulder. Park lay beneath her with an unreadable expression on his face that she couldn't quite place. When they'd collided, his hands had reflexively come up to grab onto her, now resting heavily on either side of her hips, which were straddling his own. Bullets whizzed over her head and she willed herself to move, but the look on Park's face kept her frozen in place. An expression of shock and...something else washed over the hacker's face in the moment that followed, time seeming to slow down as they both stared wordlessly at the other for what couldn't have been longer than a half second. Suddenly Renee found herself being roughly hoisted upwards by her hips and shoved off of the man beneath her with a surprising amount of force. Landing hard on her rear, which would undoubtedly bear a bruise the next day from the impact, she let out a pained yelp of surprise. Park looked extremely uncomfortable as he got to his feet, not offering to help her up, almost as if he feared that by touching her he might contract some unpleasant disease, as though the darkness of the Void would seep into him, too, if he got too close. She glared up into his stupid face and jumped to her feet, ready to fight him to the death instead of the enemy, and that was when she felt something grip her arm and yank her away.

"Come on, idiots! You can hug later, It's time to go!" Mirage yelled over the gunfire as he pulled Renee up the slippery hill by her elbow.

"We were _NOT_ hugging." she hissed, fumbling to switch out the white extended heavy mag on her Hemlock with a purple one.

Elliot rolled his eyes, reloading his Wingman with an exaggerated flourish before downing an enemy in a single, flawless headshot, without even looking where he was aiming. "I know what I saw," he said confidently, sending a decoy scurrying down the hill to its inevitable doom. "I'm not an idiot," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

\---------------------------

Safely out of the enemy's sight, Wraith risked a glance at her other team mate. Park was fidgeting with that murderous rubix cube he was so fond of, lost in thought. But the drone hovering at his side had noticed her gaze and let out a happy little robotic trill, bringing her to its owner's attention immediately. She whipped back around but not before locking eyes with Park's withering gaze for a brief, awkward moment. She'd have to get used to no longer being the only one on the team with eyes in the back of her head.

For some inexplicable reason, a few moments later, she gave into the urge to steal another glance at Park. _Oh, sorry, "Crypto,"_ she thought bitterly, rolling her eyes as she watched him patch into the drone like some sort of terrifying MARVN with skin. _Crypto, _she thought, _What a stupid name._

Almost as though he'd heard her thoughts, Park met her gaze again, this time with an even more obvious stare, the AR interface projected by his ocular implant dissolving into thin air as both dark eyes fixed on her own. After another awkward staring contest, he sneered and looked back down at the cube in his palm before hopping a zipline and perching on a nearby sniper's nest, peering into the distance via the scope on his Triple Take. Renee huffed and jogged up ahead, setting a portal into the ring. A few moments later, she felt the telltale goosebumps and heard her own voice ring in her ears,

_ _

_ **There's someone watching! ** _

She knew who it was, but turned around anyway, meeting a cold pair of dark brown eyes. _What did you expect, dumbass?_

Elliot was right. HE was definitely _not_ the idiot in this scenario.

\----------

They made it to the top 3 before another team took them out, which wouldn't have happened if that idiot Park had been paying attention, instead of following her around with that stupid drone. As _if_ she needed his help. If it weren't for her he'd have bled out in the snow 20 minutes prior. She had saved his stupid life and all she got in return was shoved in the snow. What a fucking brat.

"Ey, you joinin' us for drinks this evening?" Ajay threw an arm around her as they all filed into the legends' locker room. "Mirage is buyin', ya hear?" she half-shouted, beaming at Wraith and ignoring a distant "Wait, _what_?!" from Elliot.

Wraith smiled and shook her head, waving Ajay away. "Not tonight, girl. You guys go ahead, I'm beat. Long week." 

"It's onleh Tuesday, ya lazy bones!" Lifeline chirped down the hallway. 

Renee laughed, "Exactly!" And with a flash of indigo light, she was gone.

\-------------

Back in the dropship, Renee retired to her room. She rarely spent time outside of it, making a point to avoid common areas like the living room and cafeteria. She preferred solitude to companionship. Occasionally Elliot and Ajay would talk her into meeting in one of their rooms or Elliot's bar for a post-game drink, but that was the extent of the friendly fraternizing she could comfortably tolerate. No one had ever seen her out of the bloodsport gear she wore in the ring, except Ajay once, when she was helping her bandage a particularly nasty wound from Bloodhound's axe.

Removing the phase tech from her forearm and sitting it aside, she sighed, never allowing her gaze to drift to the mirror on the dresser in front of her. Even without peering into it, she knew that the woman looking back at her would appear tired, frustrated, and completely spent. She unclipped her belt, kicked off her boots, and slipped off the rest of her gear before carefully setting aside her armor next to the phase-tech armband in the top drawer of her dresser, then peeling off the form-fitting suit she wore beneath.

It was cool on the ship now that they weren't in the eternal heat and humidity of Solace. Talos was beautiful, but parts of World's Edge appeared to be experiencing a kind of nuclear winter, and the chilled air extended all across the island, especially at night. The bathroom was already beginning to steam up as she stepped out of her underwear and hooked her finger through the elastic band holding her bun in place, allowing her hair to fall down and hang past her shoulder blades.

She stepped under the stream of water and sighed deeply at the pleasant warmth of it falling against her back, massaging sore muscles and releasing some of the day's tension. She'd been feeling so restless lately, so easily frustrated and unfocused -- something Park never missed an opportunity to point out as rudely as humanly possible. Even when it wasn't her fault, like the week before when he'd chided her for getting downed because of "distraction," when what had really happened was her armband locked up and wouldn't allow her to phase to the safety of the Void. Some sort of technical issue, definitely _not_ her fault. He was one to talk about distraction, standing around with his head always in the clouds, literally. His distracted drone piloting had gotten them all eliminated earlier that very day! She grit her teeth at the memory, and shook it out of her head, hair flinging water droplets against the white tiles of the shower wall. _Fucker._

She reminded herself that now was no time to think about Park, the insolent jerk -- now was time to relax. She needed a distraction, and not the kind that causes technical issues. Hanging her head under the pleasant pressure of the water, she allowed her mind to wander down paths it did not often travel, imagining what it might feel like to have a warm body pressed against hers, the soothing water soaking them both, the cool tiles of the wall pressed against her bare breasts. Renee did not often allow herself the privilege of self-satisfaction. It wasn't that she didn't feel the need, just that there was always something more important, more pressing, that required her attention. Practice with her squad, the games themselves, and the media circus that every legend was required to participate in occupied most of her time, and left her mind and body exhausted. Not to mention the fact that with each new interesting thing she learned about her past, she discovered something equally as horrifying. 

There was no one else to help, and she wasn't looking (much to Elliot's repeated disappointment). Why would anyone want to date an amnesiac former mad-scientist and IMC lackey who voluntarily experimented on human subjects? It was one thing when she had no memory, no name, no past; an innocent victim of the evil IMC. But now? Now she was Renee Blasey -- whoever the fuck that was. A person who volunteered herself for highly unethical experiments, worked for the IMC, and god only knows what else. Yes, a life of solitude was what she deserved.

Now everyone in the damn games knew her secrets. Sure, there were people who didn't judge her, like Elliot and Ajay. Ajay could relate, and Elliot just couldn't care less. But some legends treated her differently. Anita sometimes taunted her in the arena about their pasts with the IMC, trying to get in her head to gain the upper hand in the games. Prior to her past being revealed, she'd never caught the business end of Bloodhound's sacred battle axe, and she couldn't help but wonder if it had been a real attempt to end her life -- not just in the ring, but for good. Even worse, Dr. Caustic had taken to making highly inappropriate references to what he referred to as their "shared fondness for human experimentation." The way he had appeared right behind her, slipped an arm around her torso, and hissed, "What a thrilling kill," into her ear the last time they'd played on the same team made her feel ill, and the way he said it made her wish she'd put a bullet into him instead of the enemy. She had instantly wrenched herself out of his grasp, but his words still made her skin crawl for weeks afterwards.

And ALL of that was Park's fault, fucking around in Singh's lab on Solace, messing with dangerous shit he knew nothing about. Showing up and joining the team in the weirdest, most-suspicious possible manner, leaving that fucking voice log out for everyone to find...sometimes she wondered if he'd done it on purpose.

At any rate, Renee's social life was fucked, and there just wasn't time for romance. Too messy, too complicated. There was barely time to take care of herself, let alone someone else. The most she let loose was on nights like this, when the exhaustion, tension, and frustration of the day reached a fever pitch, and she allowed herself some small, self-made solace. Nights that had started happening a helluva lot more frequently since Park joined the team.

She allowed her mind and hands to wander and explore as she smoothed the lavender-vanilla soap into her skin and, while rinsing it off under the warm stream of water, slipping a hand down between her slick thighs. A gasp left her as she pressed two wet fingers into herself and imagined they weren't her own. She slipped them out and over her clit, stroking and shuddering before plunging them back into her cunt and forcefully curling them against that plush spot deep inside, the spot that made her eyes roll back and her hips buck forward and her teeth sink into her lower lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape her throat. She worked herself closer to her peak, so close she could almost feel it -- her lover's heavy hands on her hips, pushing and pulling her, soft lips pressed hard into her throat, biting and licking and sucking bruises into the pale, tender flesh there. She was getting close, her heart was thumping in her ears and she could feel her pulse throbbing between her thighs. Leaning back against the tiles for support, she trembled slightly, trying to hold out a little longer, so fucking close. A wanton moan finally tore free from her lips as she drew ever closer to her peak. Teetering on the edge, she could almost taste her imagined lover, feel his breath against her lips, hear his deep voice echoing in her ears, growling something undoubtedly filthy, in a language she didn't understa--

** **

**_They're watching you!_** The voice in her head -- her own -- shouted suddenly, startling her so much she banged her elbow into the wall and nearly lost her balance, cursing as she grabbed at the shower curtain to steady herself. Immediately, there was a loud thunk and the slam of a door just outside the bathroom. Fear coursed through her. _Fuck_, she thought, _this had better be one of Elliot's stupid pranks_. Her heart threatened to beat its way out of her chest entirely as she leaned forward to turn off the water and quickly reached for her towel.

Shakily drying off, she hurried to pull on her night clothes -- a lightweight bralette, black tank top, and a pair of plum-colored cotton sleep shorts -- leaving her damp hair to hang below her tensed shoulders. The door to the bathroom was open, but she'd left it that way. Why wouldn't she? The front door had an electronic lock, no one else had a key card...

Had the bathroom door moved? She wasn't sure, but every part of her killer instinct was aroused, and she had felt it, no question. Someone was _there_. Gripping the kunai (which never left her side), she padded to the door on bare feet and waited, listening. After a moment, she took a deep breath and carefully gripped the handle, peering through the widening gap as she pushed the door forward.

Nothing. No one. _What the fuck?_ It seemed the coast was clear, so after another moment, she opened the door fully and entered her bedroom, icy gaze darting back and forth as she scanned the room for anything amiss. Her armor, scarf, and suit were on the dresser where she'd left them. Boots sat by the door as they always did. The woman peering back at her from the mirror over the dresser wore an annoyingly concerned expression that seemed to say, "Are you sure you didn't imagine it, dear?" and it made Wraith want to put her fist through the reflective glass.

Trying to relax a little, she reclined on her bed and pulled the covers over her exposed skin. She still felt a little uneasy, and a incredibly silly. Her voices got triggered all the time on the dropship -- with so many legends living in such close quarters, there were bound to be some bumps in the night and some false-alarms triggering her senses. Elliot had probably come round for a nightcap and peered under the door to see if she was home, setting off her voices. There was nothing to worry about. Right? 

Right.

...So then why did she still feel so uneasy? Cursing the "no guns on the dropship" rule for the thousandth time and sighing in exasperation, she sat up and tore back the covers, swinging her legs over the bedside and stomping barefoot to the dresser. It had been a long time since she'd slept wearing the phase tech. Months, really. It made her feel silly, like a scared little girl. Her nightmares weren't as frequent as they'd been just after she escaped Singh's underground labs, before she could control her powers, and though she'd killed countless enemies inside the ring with nothing but the kunai and her wits about her, she still found she struggled to sleep well in the dark. On the rare occasion she felt afraid, she'd sheepishly slip the band onto her forearm and quickly fall asleep, secure in the knowledge that if she were attacked, she could easily phase to safety. Silly though she felt, she made her way to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer where she always kept her one-of-a-kind phase tech when she wasn't using it.

There was one problem: _it wasn't there. _

That was impossible, of course, because she'd just slipped it off and placed it in the drawer moments before getting in the shower. The fear came rushing back suddenly, pure, sickening dread laced with the white-hot anger of violated privacy. _Who? How? Why...?_

Suddenly, it dawned on her. _Park_.

She hadn't let him fix her phase tech after the incident where it had malfunctioned and cost them the game. Anyone else, she would have gratefully accepted, but Park's offer had been dripping with such smug condescension, she had decided right then and there that letting him have the satisfaction wasn't worth it, even if it affected her stats negatively in the long run. She clenched her fists at the memory.

The nerve. The absolute NERVE to act like...like there was something wrong with _her,_ and not the armband. The nerve to break into her room (_The hell? Did he hack the lock?!_) and STEAL her gear in the middle of the night because he thinks he's hot shit and that the tech maintenance engineers for the games "will just make it worse." How DARE he?

Park was a fucking dead man.

Seizing the kunai without a second thought, she stormed out of her dorm and down the hallway, past the other legends' rooms. Park, being the newest addition to the team, was assigned a room at the furthest end of the hall, between Nat's and an unoccupied room reserved for the next legend, whoever they would be. 

For a moment, she almost lost her nerve, stopping dead in her tracks halfway down the hall. Everyone's door was shut, save the one at the end of the hall. The door to Park's room was cracked open an inch, allowing the bright blueish glow of a computer screen to beam down the hallway in a thin seam of light. She paused.

_What if someone else took it?_ What if Park retaliated by blowing her up with an EMP, or worse, hacking her instant messaging app to display her as "always visible" online? Renee briefly considered knocking on Caustic's door to ask if she could borrow a barrel or two of noxious gas, but then thought better of it. She took a deep breath and forced herself to think about that moment in the ring earlier, when he'd all but thrown her off him after she had saved his stupid life. She remembered the sneering offer of tech support. Her blood boiled.

She was going to kill him. She was going to _literally fucking kill him_.

Resolve renewed and kunai clutched tight, she tiptoed to the door, holding her breath as she peered through the crack. She could see a large monitor, the source of the glowing light, but Park was nowhere to be found. Carefully, she pushed the door open and slipped inside.

She could only see the empty chair in front of the monitor ahead of her, but the rest of the room was a mystery, blocked by a wall. Still holding her breath -- and her knife -- she peered around the corner. 

Park had his back to her, standing in front of of a large collection of monitors displaying various pages of indecipherable code, blueprints for strange buildings, what looked like drone footage, and schematics for various devices, one of which was her stolen armband. _Caught you._ He was completely absorbed in his AR world, surely interfacing with the drone, wherever it was. _Idiot. _The irony of thinking SHE'S the one not paying attention. Looking closer, she spied her stolen phase-tech itself, sitting on the desk in front of him with the outer plate removed, exposing the delicate, irreplaceable technology within.

Rage bubbled up in her stomach like the molten lava beneath the thermal station on World's Edge. She slinked up silently behind him like a cat, like a viper poised to strike. After a final moment observing her prey, she pounced. 

Tae Joon gasped as she shoved him roughly against the nearby wall, and felt her press the cool, sharp edge of the kunai closely against the synthetic skin of his throat, felt it vibrating with Void energy.

"You've got about three seconds to explain just what exactly the _fuck_ you think you're doing before I slice that creepy-looking throat of yours to ribbons." she hissed, getting right up in his face, which was wide-eyed with surprise. After a brief second of shock, his eyes focused on her face, drifted to her hair. She felt his throat bob as he swallowed against her knife, the inky artificial skin adorning his throat and jaw feeling like a strange, warm leather against her hand, far softer than she would have previously guessed. Despite her fury, Renee felt a sudden wave of self-consciousness. No one here had ever seen her like this, hair damp and slightly wavy with humidity from the shower, soft civilian clothes and exposed skin where there should be protective armor. Despite being the aggressor, she felt vulnerable somehow, exposed, and would have given anything to have the familiar weight of a gun in her hand, even a P2020. Anything to make her appear more threatening than she currently felt.

Despite the initial shock, Park's face had settled back into that insufferable fucking smugness again, and she couldn't stand it anymore.

"_Answer me!_" she hissed, a little too loudly, before adding, more quietly, "Or I won't stop at your throat," in a voice she hoped sounded much more menacing than she felt at the moment. "Why are you fucking with my shit?" she demanded, feeling incredibly stupid. _Wow, Wraith, "fucking with my shit," how very eloquent of you_, she thought bitterly, cringing at her own words.

Park averted his eyes. "_Miahnhe. Waenyahamyeon neoneun aleumdab gi ttaemun-iya. Naneun dangsin-eul anjeonhage jikyeoyahabnida._"****** he murmured quietly. It was barely a whisper.

"What?!" Now he was just fucking with her.

He sighed in exasperation. "I told you before: you're going to get all of us killed if you don't take better care of that," he gestured towards her armband, sitting in pieces on his desk. Smirking, he added, "If you kill me now, you'll never get it working again. You need me," he smiled politely, somehow managing to look insufferably smug even with a knife against his throat. 

Righteous anger renewed, Wraith bared her teeth and fisted the front of his shirt, deeply longing to open a portal and toss him into it, but settling for throwing him to the ground instead. 

She was on him in a second, pinning him beneath her weight, the point of her blade catching a bit of the human skin just below his Adam's apple and causing a single drop of crimson to begin dripping towards his collarbone. The look on his face was different now, eyes wide and lips parted, like earlier that day on the snowy peak, just before he had pushed her away.

Which reminded her...why _wasn't_ he pushing her away, or even fighting back? He had earlier, he'd damn near thrown her off -- in fact, she was quite sure things would have come to fisticuffs had Elliot not interrupted and physically removed her from Park's miserable presence before she'd had the chance to punch that stupid, pretty-boy face. Hell, he'd almost broken Elliot's arm on the dropship for clapping him on the shoulder. Why the hell wasn't this antagonistic fucker defending himself?

_Fuck it_, she thought. The "why" didn't matter. All that mattered was she finally had him right where she wanted him and it was time to teach the insufferable little prick a lesson. Someone had to wipe that fucking smirk off his face eventually, might as well be her.

She leaned forward and seized his jaw. "Look at me, Park," he desperately tried to look elsewhere, eyes defiant but tinged with something else, something shameful. "Coming into _my_ room, stealing _MY_ shit because you can't keep your fucking hands to yourself, can't even say thank you, can't even offer to help someone without being a Level 4 asshat about it...who the _fuck_ do you think you are, Park? Where do you get off talking to me like that? Do you know where I've been, what I've fucking _SEEN? _I'm not afraid of you!" She hated how emotional she sounded, but the flash of anger in his eyes that her words caused was satisfying enough to be worth it. She couldn't stop now. "And now you're just gonna go limp, after all that goading? Really? What the fuck is wrong with you, Park?" she felt high on the anger, it felt good to leave the fucker speechless for once in his miserable life. But it wasn't satisfying if he was just going to lay there like an idiot. Where was that fury she'd seen in his eyes after he pushed her into the snow? Did he really want his vocal cords cut to ribbons?

Deciding to test that theory, she let go of Park's leathery cybernetic jaw in favor of fisting a handful of his too-perfect hair and yanking it hard, digging the kunai into his flesh with a little more conviction as she leaned back to take in his reaction. But as she did so, she became acutely aware of two undeniable facts:

First, whether it was the pulled hair or the blade of her knife that caused it, the sound that tore from his throat when she reasserted her threat could only be described as a moan, and not the kind one makes when they are experiencing only pain. His entire face flushed red, and his ears surely would have as well, if they weren't also covered in the same blackish synthetic skin that covered his neck and fingertips. The ever-present smirk on Park's face was replaced with a guilty, bashful look that would not allow him to meet her furious gaze.

Second, and perhaps most noticeably -- his cock was undeniably hard, and suddenly pressed firmly against her cunt, with only her thin pair of shorts and his pants separating them. Realization dawned on her and she leaned back again, gently rocking her hips to test this theory. 

Crypto groaned low in his throat -- a desperate, tortured noise -- and his hands came up to grip her hips and pull them flush against him, grinding his length against her through his pants, eyes squeezing shut as though it pained him not to be buried in her heat at that very moment. The cool metal of the sensors implanted in his fingertips made her gasp when they smoothed over the soft skin of her thighs.

Overcoming the initial moment of utter shock, Renee snatched his wrists and pinned them above his head. "Thieving brats don't get to touch me," she spat venomously, "Entitled little thieves need to learn to keep their hands to themselves." 

He gave her a pitiful look that forced a bitter peal of laughter from her lungs. "You're one sick puppy aren't you, Park? God, what do you think Elliot would say if he knew you really _were_ trying to hug me in that match earlier?" she teased, feeling as though she were going mad, as though someone else were speaking through her, possessing her and making her enjoy...whatever the fuck _this_ was.

Tae Joon's cheeks were crimson as he glared up at her defiantly, daring her to keep going, but it only took a single rock of her hips to have him moaning beneath her, entire body tensing up with the effort of not touching her. She leaned forward, enjoying how he shifted uncomfortably beneath her. _Fucking brat. Serves him right, a little suffering. _

Making eye contact, she leaned back, releasing her grip on his hair but still holding the kunai flush with his throat, blood now leaking freely from the point of contact. Her other hand slid up her leg, pawing teasingly at the thin, damp fabric between her thighs. She watched his hungry gaze follow her fingers as they disappeared beneath her shorts.

"Is this what you want?" she teased, rocking her hips a little.

Park groaned in affirmation and thrust up against her with a pleading look in his eyes, only to be met with a sharp slap across the cheek that made his cock pulse on impact, another desperate moan escaping him involuntarily.

"That's not very polite, _Crypto_. Gentlemen use their words," she cooed mischievously. His cock twitched again at the sudden use of the nickname she'd previously refused to acknowledge. He glared back silently, but the wet spot forming at the front of his pants was more than enough evidence to confirm her suspicions. He _liked_ it. He _WANTED_ it. He'd wanted it in the ring, too, when she'd tackled him into the snow, and he'd forcefully pushed her away before she had a chance to notice the obvious evidence of his arousal.

This revelation sent a thrill coursing through Renee that she couldn't quite explain. Her heart was pounding so hard she feared Park could hear it. Breathing deeply, she tried to steady herself. She needed to stay in control.

"You've got to learn some manners, Park," she tutted, aroused by the warning gaze he shot her; an indignant, stubborn look that said, _try me_.

Well, he asked for it. And Renee was no coward.

She slid the kunai away from his throat for a moment to pull her tank top over her head, leaving her in only her black bralette and cotton shorts. Park's eyes raked over every inch of newly-exposed skin like she was a particularly tempting dessert. With a surge of confidence she dropped her hands to rest on his hips, right at his belt buckle, which she then set to work unbuckling. His chest rose and fell with ragged, uneven breaths as he watched her work. Finally working the belt free from its loops, she quickly looped it around his wrists, pulling it taut and binding them together before stabbing the knife through the other end of the belt and into the floor below them, pinning his arms above his head and freeing up her own.

Deftly unbuttoning his pants and pulling down the zipper, she yanked them and his boxer briefs roughly down his thighs in a single tug. He gasped as his neglected cock was suddenly exposed to the cool air of the bedroom, thick and needy and already leaking profusely from the tip. He rolled his hips again, desperate to get more of the delicious friction from before, and still unable to look her in the eye. Renee locked her thighs around him so he couldn't move.

"If you want even the tiniest chance of me not leaving you tied up in here alone for someone else to find, you're going to have to behave," she cooed, toying with the jewelry that hung from Park's neck. "And if you want to me to even THINK about helping you out here, you have to say the magic word. I want to hear you beg." She smiled down at him sweetly, meeting his furious, desperate gaze and chuckling at his predicament. He stared back in disbelief.

"_Say it_," she hissed, low and dangerous. 

He cursed under his breath in Korean, cock bobbing up against his stomach, aching with need.

Wraith clicked her tongue, "Well, I guess I should be going. It really is getting late, I wouldn't want to perform poorly in the ring tomorrow because I'm '_distracted'_ by lack of sleep. You understand." She shifted her weight and moved to climb off him, but as the realization dawned on him that she was serious about leaving him there alone, exposed, and unsatisfied, he jerked against his restraints and cried out, "_No!_ Please!"

"He speaks! 'Please?' Please what?" she asked playfully, hovering above him.

"Please!" he cried again, and then, softer, "Please, I will...behave. You have my word. Please don't leave me like this, Renee. _Nae hoebuhkeurapeuteuneun changuhro kadeuk cha isseyo,_"*** he whined, shameless and needy and as desperate as she'd ever seen him. And fuck, it was contagious. Something about the way he'd said her name made her ache to hear it again. The thin cotton fabric of her shorts had been soaked from the moment she first heard him moan, and she was becoming acutely aware of the fire igniting in her core, filling her with a desperate need of her own.

He looked up at her pleadingly as she paused to consider him before finally relenting, settling back on top of him and roughly grasping his throbbing cock with one hand, his heavily-altered throat with the other. Squeezing his length, the sound she ripped from his lungs was truly intoxicating. She could listen to him beg all night. 

As much as she hated admitting it, Caustic _may_ have been onto something with his constant references to voyeuristically watching the results of his experiments on human subjects. Something about watching Park's blatant desire grapple with the shredded remains of his personal pride had her feeling like she needed another shower. A cold one, this time.

"I'm not sure I heard you, Park. What was that, again?" she asked innocently, beginning to stroke his cock as he gasped for air. The look on his face was almost as delicious as the desperate sounds she kept pulling out of him.

"P-please, Wraith, fuck, I need it, I....god, _PLEASE_." he begged, unable to resist thrusting into her palm.

"Ah-ah, what did I just tell you?" she chided. "You're a big boy, Park. Use your words. 'Please' what?" she asked smiling wickedly down at him as she pumped his leaking cock.

Beneath her, Park crumbled.

"_Jebal_, please touch me, oh god, please, let me cum, _fuck_, PLEASE Renee, I c-can't, I need it, _please_, I need to feel you, need to cu--FUCK!" his pleas were promptly cut off by a strangled moan when Wraith pulled her soaked shorts to the side and sank down on his thick cock, taking every inch in a single stroke and hissing at the sweet pain. She'd made him beg. She'd won this round.

They both cried out as she enveloped him in her tight warmth, his thick length bottoming out and spreading her wide. A steady string of curses escaped him in both English and Korean as she began to bounce, his cockhead kissing the neck of her womb and pressing insistently against a spot that made her eyes roll back into her head with every thrust.

He was beautiful. _God_, he was fucking beautiful. Eyes screwed shut, brow knotted in a blissful expression of ecstasy, head thrown back revealing that slender, mechanically-modified throat, lips alternately caught between his teeth, and parted in pleasure as he gasps her name, begging for more. 

Before long, she finds herself approaching her peak. Thighs shaking, the sound of his pleading is enough to drive her mad and when the rhythmic pulsing of her cunt causes him to groan, "Fuck, _so tight_," she's forced over the edge without warning, cumming with a needy cry of his Apex alias on her lips.

Thrashing beneath her and writhing against his restraints, Park finally pulls himself free, the belt coming un-stuck from the floor as her knife clatters to the ground. In a flash he's freed himself of the belt, ripped off his shirt, and has her pinned under his weight so fast it's disorienting in the wake of her orgasm, her cunt still spasming around him, body trembling with aftershocks. With his hands free, he seeks to fill them with every bit of her he can reach, and all she manages is a gasp before his lips are pressed roughly against her own, hungrily licking into her mouth like she's the last sweet thing he'll ever taste. One hand tangles in her midnight locks, holding her in place while he plunders her mouth and swallows every shallow breath and needy moan he frees from her lips. The other hand wanders up her thigh, her ribs, her chest, pulls down the front of her bra and squeezes the soft flesh within, rolling a blushing nipple between his fingers and relishing the way her body moves for him, the way she shakes and shudders and arches her back, toes curling, fingernails leaving angry red streaks across his shoulderblades when he roughly thrusts in to the hilt, grinding cruelly against the spot within that makes her beg him not to stop. 

And _god_, she's fucking beautiful like this, blushing down her chest, gasping his name, blue eyes occasionally flashing with an otherworldly glow before rolling back into her head in ecstasy. The way she looks beneath him defies words, all blushing pink skin and soft curves pressed deliciously in to the hard, angular planes of his lean body, his toned flesh looking warm against her ghostly-cool complexion. Little bits of her skin have turned bright pink from his mouth's loving abuse, but still she moves to allow him better access. 

The sound of her begging is sweeter than he ever could have imagined, pink lips parted in exultation, her pale throat exposed in such a tempting manner, he can't help but sink his teeth into it and suck a dark, blossoming bruise there -- desperate to make this real, make it palpable, leave a lasting mark so that neither of them can deny it happened when the morning comes.

When he folds both her legs over his shoulder, her keening takes on such a desperate pitch that she claps a hand over her mouth to try and silence it. Probably a wise decision, but one he just cannot abide. 

"No, let me hear it." he demands, voice low and deep and tinged with danger. He roughly wrenches her hand from her mouth and pins both wrists above her head in the same position she'd had him in only moments before, folding her nearly in half and and fucking her in earnest, the lewd sound of skin on skin loud enough now that half the dropship can probably hear it, if they haven't already heard the pleading moans pouring from her mouth, now unobstructed.

_She's so perfect like this, _he thinks, vaguely wondering if she's noticed Jee's presence. The little drone hovers near-silently in the corner of the room, recording their every move, and the realization that his encounter with Wraith's knife and the events that have followed are being forever immortalized in .mpeg format makes him groan with desire. If she'd noticed, he'd already be dead by now. She doesn't know it's watching, distracted as she is by the man above her...or she doesn't care. Tae Joon can't decide what he hopes more: that she's an exhibitionist who likes being watched, or thats she'll be so furious upon discovery of this fact that she'll tie him up and threaten him with the knife again. His cock throbs at the thought.

"Park," she gasps breathlessly, wrapping her fingers around one of his wrists, placing his hand around her throat, "_Please_." The look in her eyes when she says it is one he'd commit countless crimes to see again. It's enough to make him cum right there, and he very nearly does. Barely holding onto the tatters of his self control, he pulls out slightly and -- with an immense amount of effort -- forces himself to stop moving. The strangled cry that escapes Renee when he does is one he hopes that noxious creep of a scientist across the hall can hear, the sound making Tae Joon's chest swell with pride. He takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the irresistible way her cunt is pulsing around him.

"Please _what_?" he growls, grinning mischievously and shaking with the effort of not fucking her as hard as he desperately needs to.

The look on her face is priceless. He readjusts his grip on her pale throat, the subdermal sensors and synthetic skin of his fingertips detecting her rapid pulse and displaying her vitals in the corner of the augmented-reality HUD that overlays his vision. The sensors were meant to allow him to directly connect to any piece of technology with a single touch, instead of taking it apart to manually brute-force his way in to gain access. Fast and convenient, the sensors also had the added benefit of allowing him to quickly check the status of enemies and team mates -- a simple touch to the throat was all it took to hijack the device every legend had implanted to monitor their vitals, allowing him to quickly check and make sure he hasn't left an enemy alive, playing dead until he turns his back.

Renee is grasping his wrist again, holding it to her throat with even more force than before, bucking her hips in frustration at his lack of movement. His vision lights up with warnings that his target is experiencing rapid pulse and lack of oxygen, that they need meds or a trip to Lifeline's sick bay. Renee's crystalline gaze is locked with his, brows knotted in need, confusion, desperation.

"P-please," she tries again, in a pleading tone he's never heard from her before, "Tae Joon, _please_. Fuck me." He groans, thinking he'd swallow an arc star before he'd ever willingly deny her.

He tightens his grip on her throat experimentally, testing the waters. The way her hands release his wrist and fall next to her head submissively spurns him on, and the pathetic, needy cry that escapes her lips when he begins thrusting again makes him feel almost intoxicated, drugged, high on the sounds of her pleasure.

Feeling her pulse rhythmically thrumming against his palm, he begins to thrust deep. The needy-but-gentle touches from before are gone, replaced with an aggressive roughness that has Renee shamelessly begging for more. Tae Joon occasionally releases his hold on her neck, allowing her a few gasping breaths before tightening his grip and thrusting even harder than before.

Without warning, he pulls out and flips Renee onto her stomach, dragging her hips upwards before quickly plunging back into her plush cunt. A hand tangles in her disheveled mane and yanks, hard, pulling her back against his chest as she cries out. Releasing her hair, his hand returns to her throat, squeezing possessively, his other arm wrapping tight around her ribcage, pressing as much of her skin against his as he can manage.

His lips meet her jaw, and she can feel his hot breath puffing against her neck when he growls, "Like this? Is this what you wanted, Renee?" in her ear.

She whimpers, nodding breathlessly. 

"Ah-ah," he purrs against her throat, tongue slipping out to taste the single drop of sweat rolling down her delicate neck, causing her to gasp. "You know the rules. Say it. Be a good girl and let me hear it."

Renee moans, squeezing her eyes shut, cheeks red with humiliation and exertion, trying to ignore the pressure between her thighs long enough to speak and utterly failing to do so.

He's fucking her so hard now that each thrust knocks the air from her lungs. She'll undoubtedly have a ring of bruises around her throat and torso tomorrow from his iron grip. A distant voice warns him to stop, slow down before her hurts her, goes too far. But he can't stop, not when she's making those heavenly sounds and pushing back her hips to meet each of his punishing thrusts. Not when he still needs to hear her say it, admit that she wants it, wants him.

"Tell me, is this what you wanted?" he hisses in her ear deviously, stopping his rhythmic thrusting again in favor of burying his cock deep and holding himself there, pinning her hips against his and letting her feel every last inch of his desire, rutting against her cervix as she squirms. "I need to hear you say it..."

"Yes, god, _please! _P-please, I need it so bad. Please don't stop, _fuck_, I need it, please..." she sobs mindlessly, words trailing off when Park resumes his merciless thrusting. She yelps in pain when the synthetic skin of his palm connects sharply with her ass, before he moves his fingers down between her thighs, fingertip sensors slipping against her cunt and toying with her until the feeling of that synthetic skin sliding over her slick clit is her undoing.

When she cums again, it's with his name on her lips -- his real name, this time -- and the sound is so sweet he can't help but follow her over the edge, groaning into the crook of her neck and spilling every drop of himself into her sweet, pulsing cunt as she whimpers with each wave of aftershocks.

Neither of them move for a good long while. When he finally pulls out, the small sound she makes in the back of her throat makes his chest fucking ache when he looks at her. Her hair is mostly dry now, messy and wavy and smelling slightly of lavender. She looks up at him, all glassy ocean eyes and puffy, swollen lips and he wants to say something, anything, but he isn't sure he should, because he'd never forgive himself if...

Instead, he presses his mouth against hers again, so he doesn't say something stupid and ruin this moment between them, the only moment he's felt halfway close to whole since...since...

His heart swells when she kisses him harder, her lips distracting him from the darkness plagueing his mind for what feels like the millionth time since he joined the games. They both need to breathe eventually and he's relieved to see a small smile on her lips when she pulls away from his mouth. Her eyes are still sad, though they always seem that way to some degree. 

Something strange hangs suspended between them in the afterglow, her head on his chest, his steady heartbeat calming her own. No words between them. No words needed.

Eventually, after what feels like forever, yet somehow also feels too soon, she sits up. Leaning forward, she eyes the digital clock displayed in the corner of a nearby monitor, and in the pale glow of the blueish screen, he's struck speechless for the thousandth time by her ethereal beauty. 

"I should go," she murmurs after another small eternity, refusing to look him in the eye. "Get back to my room before everyone wakes up and...y'know, _knows_."

He actually snorts at that. "You don't think they already do?" They hadn't exactly been discreet, not that he minded. A part of him hoped the toxic war criminal and that idiotic decoy dispenser had heard the way he made her sing, and the possessive thought sent a pang of jealous guilt coursing through him.

She rolls her eyes, blushing again. "Shut up, Park." Then she's reaching for her tank top, and before he can stop himself he's caught her by the wrist and blurted out, 

"No. Stay."

She peers back at him through those unknowable, otherworldly eyes, brows raised, expression unreadable. "W-what?"

"I..." he trails off, breathes deep. "I...do not care what any of those idiots think," he says, softer than she's ever heard him speak, "I want you to stay with me tonight," he pauses, before adding, "Please," and then babbling something stupid about fixing her armband in the morning so she could phase back to her room discreetly.

For someone who put so much effort into appearing not to care, he was being disarmingly-genuine. _Vulnerable_, even. It made her heart ache in an unfamiliar way that caused her stomach to flip-flop anxiously.

She bit back the reflexive, well-practiced, _I can't_ that was already waiting on her tongue, prepared just for these extremely-rare occasions of accidental intimacy, when she'd foolishly let down her guard and needed an exit strategy. You _always_ need an exit strategy. First rule of combat. Anita and Pathfinder would certainly agree.

If the games had taught her anything, it's that one vital fact. You _must_ have an exit strategy for every situation and you cannot get too close, or people _will_ get hurt. _Always_ have a way out. Keep them at arm's length. Close enough to melee, maybe, but no closer.

She took a deep breath, and willed herself to swallow the anxiety building in her stomach. _Butterflies?_ She thought, _More like bats._ Always have an escape route, no matter what. _Always_.

He looked as anxious as she felt, and without thinking, she flashed him a rare smile, teeth and all. He offered one in return. Restrained, but genuine nonetheless.

_Always have an exit strategy. _

The way he looked at her now was so far removed from the snarky, edgy, don't-give-a-damn expression he wore in the arena. The mask had slipped, and whatever was left of that prideful stoicism she'd seen before had crumbled. The man who was half-machine was wearing his heart on his sleeve, looking at her like his life depended on her accepting his invitation to stay the night. 

She climbed back onto the bed, grinning like an idiot, and breaking the first rule of combat, along with several others, like sleeping with the enemy.

_Always be planning your escape. Always..._

She planted a chaste kiss on his lips. "Okay. I think I will." 

_...Just maybe not tonight._

_\-------------_

He awoke to a pair of stunning blue eyes peering at him from the pillow next to his. She smiled softly, as did he. Her gaze shifted from his mouth to his eyes, down his chest and stomach, and back up to his face before focusing on something just behind him in the distance. Her tender expression had morphed into shock and disgust.

"Renee," he started, "What--?"

"Is that your fucking drone?! Is...is it _recording?!_"

_Fuck._

\----------------

_FIN._

**Author's Note:**

> ** = a terrible attempt at translating "Forgive me, it's because you're beautiful. I must keep you safe." into Korean. 
> 
> *** = "Just hearing your breath in my ear sends shivers down my spine." Any native speakers, plz feel free to correct me!
> 
> Jebal = Please  
Miahnhe = I'm sorry
> 
> Anyway I'm new to this shit so feel free to leave feedback!


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